Angel In A Centerfold
by beeftony
Summary: Stephanie goes undercover at a strip club to investigate a human trafficking ring. One problem: Tim is investigating it as well.
1. Dirty Dancing

Gotham City was not a place that showed up in a lot of travel brochures. Any city that had undergone so many attacks from assorted madmen was not likely to be a prime tourist destination, but it did have its charms. It had breathtaking architecture, several large tech firms and multinational banks were headquartered there, and every so often people visited hoping to catch a glimpse of the bat-themed vigilante who was somehow still mysterious despite being on hand for multiple Justice League photo ops.

One of Gotham's secret attractions, known mainly to locals, was the theatre scene. It was no Broadway, but Gotham's theatre district did remarkable business that contributed greatly to the city's economy. One of the few reasons people moved to the city was for the chance to perform on its stages.

Tonight, one young woman was visiting a stage that would likely not be featured in the Gotham Gazette's Arts section.

"You know, this is not where I imagined going when you handed me a fake ID."

"The club serves alcohol, so I had to get you in somehow," the voice on the other end of her headset reminded her. "Not that you should be drinking on the job."

"Like I'd pay strip club prices for booze anyway," she said with a scoff. "And why am I even on this assignment? Couldn't you have gotten one of your Birds to do it? I mean, Dinah pretty much dresses like a stripper already."

"I'm telling her you said that."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Kidding, O. Still, what gives?"

"Because, out of the innumerable agents at my disposal, you're the only one who spent sixty dollars on a pole-dancing class."

"Actually, Dick paid for it. And we had a marvelous time, thank you very much. It did wonders for my agility."

"Well, the Bat Wonder is on a different case, so this one's all you, Stephanie. Besides, if he got up on that pole I'm afraid he'd never want to come down."

Stephanie Brown chuckled at that image, then began her approach. "I'm going in. Radio silence while I'm in there."

Oracle complied, and she heard no further comments as she strolled up to the back door of the club, where the world's least threatening bouncer stood guard. He half glanced at her, then went back to staring at his clipboard.

"What're you doin' here, doll?" the flabby, under-groomed man with curly hair and large glasses inquired.

She thrust the false ID that Oracle had procured for her into his sweaty hands. "Haven't you heard? I'm here to dance."

At this, he blinked and looked up, giving her a closer examination. She could pinpoint the moment his gaze switched from mildly skeptical to totally lecherous, and fought the urge to cringe even as her stomach turned.

"All right," he finally said, stepping aside and pointing behind him with his thumb. "Go on backstage. Ask for Jimmy."

"Thanks," she replied, skipping past him.

She arrived backstage a minute later. It was a large room that was currently swarming with scantily clad women in various costumes, more than half of which were superhero themed. Stephanie spotted a couple Supergirls, three Batgirls (wearing Babs' costume, natch), one Poison Ivy and five Catwomen. She sighed at the lack of variety, but giggled once she spotted a man wearing nothing but a thong emblazoned with a Bat symbol.

"You Jimmy?" She asked the only fully-dressed person in the room besides herself. He wore a black tee shirt and was carrying a clipboard.

"Who's asking?"

"Lola Jenkins," she replied, handing him the fake ID. The name did not really have any special meaning. Steph had literally pulled it out of a hat, which had become her go-to method for choosing aliases.

He looked the ID over and nodded. "Your set's in fifteen. Go grab a schoolgirl outfit from the rack over there. You're dancing to 'Centerfold.'"

She gave him a mock-salute. "Yes sir!"

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

* * *

Meanwhile in the front of the club, a young man whose ID bore the name Alvin Draper was blending in with the crowd. He was not exactly comfortable being this close to so much exposed flesh, but he had to admit that the place did look a lot cleaner than the seedy joints he occasionally saw in movies. The club was co-ed, so men and women did alternating sets, and as such there were a number of female faces gathered around the stage.

Overall, it was nothing like he pictured and that put him slightly on edge, especially when he remembered why he was here. Sex trafficking was nothing new in Gotham, but the owners of this place were apparently running a rather ingenious racket. The strip-teases onstage were just a front, and the club's real business was done in much darker rooms.

It was genius, in a way. Gangs had been holding underground auctions as a front for years, often using otherwise worthless pieces of art as stand-ins for women who would later be delivered wherever the client wanted them. The club operated by putting entirely willing strippers up front, and somehow they represented specific girls that were listed in a catalog that was only available to members. He knew this because he had pick-pocketed one of said members earlier and was currently browsing through the catalog.

Since the place was already associated with sex, nobody would have thought it would be disguising more illicit activities. Most gangs went with something entirely unrelated to disguise their backroom auctions, but this threw most detectives off the scent simply by burying it a little deeper.

He was currently attempting to work out the means by which the club members selected the girls they wished to purchase. He watched the stage closely, looking for a pattern. He struck paydirt roughly 30 seconds later when one of the patrons slipped something between the dancer's thong. Instead of a dollar bill, it was a hot pink voucher. He snapped a picture using a button built into the side of his sunglasses, which also served to disguise his face.

The dancer finished her set and sashayed backstage, and the DJ announced the next one.

"We've got a new dancer for you tonight, folks! Say hello to _Lola_!"

The new dancer's arrival was preceded by the opening bars of a song that Tim thought he had heard before but could not quite place. The thought vanished to the back of his mind as he suddenly recognized the face of the young woman who arrived on the stage dressed as the mother of all fantasies, a catholic schoolgirl.

"Stephanie?" he whispered.

* * *

Up on stage, Stephanie was concentrating on not falling down in her heels. She found her rhythm after a few steps and moved her way up to the pole. As she did so, her eye caught someone hanging out toward the back of the room, wearing sunglasses. He was especially noticeable because he was staring at her in utter disbelief.

A mischievous smile slid over her features as soon as she recognized him. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

The song gained momentum, and she began her set.

_Does she walk? Does she talk? Does she come complete?  
My homeroom, homeroom angel always pulled me from my seat_

The song was even older than she was, but Steph still knew it by heart. She strutted forward to the waiting crowd, shedding her vest while thrusting her respectable chest forward in the gawker's direction. Shimmying her hips, she raised it over her head and twirled it around in time with the song.

_She was pure like snowflakes, no one could ever stain  
The memory of my angel could never cause me pain_

Tossing the vest aside, she swayed seductively while slowly undoing the tie. Once it was removed, she wrapped it around the pole and used it to hold herself up as she twirled around it. Once she had completed two rotations, she threw the tie into the crowd and started to unbutton her shirt.

Meanwhile, the young man's face continued to grow more distressed. She could imagine the thoughts going through his head, and that made her cackle inside. Though they had known each other for a long time, he had never been one to be physically intimate with her.

Time to show him what he had been missing.

_Years go by, I'm looking through a girly magazine  
And there's my homeroom angel on the pages in between_

She turned around and bent down to touch her toes, sliding her hands up her legs slowly as she rose up again. A couple years ago she would have been supremely uncomfortable just being up here, but any misgivings she had harbored were washed away by the thought of how much she could make the former boy wonder squirm. Giving him a nice, long look at what she was wearing under that skirt ought to do it.

Of course, she was also flashing the rest of the patrons, but she had expected that going in. The case took priority here, and if she had to step slightly outside her comfort zone to play her part, then so be it. Besides, right now she was anything but uncomfortable.

_My blood runs cold  
My memory has just been sold  
My angel is the centerfold  
(Angel is the centerfold_)

It had to have been some sort of cosmic coincidence that chose this song, because it could not have fit the look on his face better. If she had any doubts before, she knew it was Tim by the way he was scowling at her disapprovingly. Nobody could look so simultaneously embarrassed and disappointed in her better than Timothy Jackson Drake.

Well, she didn't care. If anything, that look only urged her to be even more defiant of his expectations. She gripped the pole with her hands then flipped adroitly upwards, hanging upside down and squeezing with her thighs to keep from sliding down too rapidly. While suspended, she finished unbuttoning her dress shirt and discarded it, revealing a white lace bra underneath.

Even though she could not see his eyes, she imagined they were bulging out of their sockets by now.

_My blood runs cold  
My memory has just been sold_

The crowd was cheering for her now, and that energized her as she dismounted the pole, sliding off her skirt and revealing thigh-high garters underneath. Dollar bills began to pile on the stage, and though she knew that there were creative ways of picking them up, that was not part of her act. She continued dancing to the song, working the pole with some moves that Dick had shown her.

_Angel is the centerfold_

The song continued to play, and she finished off her set a couple minutes later, but did not take off any more of her garments. Oracle had explained to her when they planned the operation that it was not that type of club. In order to get more money out of its customers, any nudity required a much steeper cover charge than a few singles, and happened behind closed curtains.

Steph suspected that was the only reason Babs had even considered her for this assignment. Not that she was about to reveal that much to total strangers. Nothing against the girls who did, but it just wasn't her.

She was letting the crowd's applause wash over her when she felt something tucked between the garter and her hip, and had to stop herself from slapping the hand that put it there. After all, this was part of the plan. She glanced surreptitiously down at the man, who by this time was already facing away from her. She did notice his blonde locks, however; a rarity in Gotham, where it seemed the ever-present grime had spread into the people's very hair.

Moving back down the catwalk, she disappeared behind the backstage curtains and let out a sigh of relief. She pulled the voucher out from between the garter and studied it. There were two series of numbers written on it: a bank account and a number that she was guessing came from the catalog they only passed out to members. She fiddled with the flower in her hair, snapping a picture with the camera hidden within. She also memorized the numbers just in case, before walking over and handing the slip of paper to Jimmy.

"Now that you're done with your set, go walk the floor a little," he ordered, and she nodded. "Since it's your first night, you can keep twenty percent of whatever you make out there."

"Sounds generous," she commented, smiling. She moved past him and slipped through the door leading to the floor. The initial plan had not included giving lapdances, but Stephanie was adaptable.

Besides, she had just the patron in mind.

* * *

Tim was furious. No, that word was not strong enough. _Outraged_ described it a little better. It was one thing for him to infiltrate a strip club as a patron, but the last thing he had expected to see was his ex-girlfriend _on stage_ taking her clothes off. Granted, she had not fully disrobed but it was still more of her than he had ever seen before. Everybody else had seen it too, and that was what angered him.

He had accepted that she was able to do the vigilante thing. After all, she had the blessing of Batman himself and she had never backed down even when everybody was actively trying to make her quit. But this was something else entirely. Stephanie was putting herself at an entirely different kind of risk here, one she had no right to given that she was not even old enough to come in here as a patron. Technically neither was he, but he was not the one taking off his clothes in front of a room full of strangers.

Who had authorized her for this? He could see no reason that either Batman would have, so it had to have come from Oracle. But if that was the case then surely any of the Birds of Prey would have fit the bill better than Stephanie. Black Canary pretty much dressed like a stripper already, so why was his ex-girlfriend the one chosen?

Well, no matter. He was just going to have to find a way backstage and warn her off. She had no business getting involved in any of this.

"Can I interest you in a dance, sailor?"

"Huh?" He blinked and turned around to come face to face with Steph, who was still clad in the lingerie she had been wearing when she exited the stage. "N-no! What are you even doing here, St—"

"Lola," she interjected before he could finish blowing her cover. "And I was hoping we'd get to talk someplace a little more... private."

Well, accosting her out here on the club floor would not do either of them any favors, since both their covers would be blown. "Lead the way," he said tightly.

She giggled and led him by the hand to a hallway at the back of the club, guarded by a bouncer. He let them pass and she led him into one of the rooms. He shook his wrists free from her grasp and glared at her.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Sit down," she told him, brushing off the question.

"What?"

"_Sit down_," she repeated, pointing to the couch that rested against the side wall.

"Why would I want to—"

"Because," she said, shoving him onto the couch. "The hidden cameras don't have audio but they _do _record our movements, so we have to keep up appearances or they're gonna know something's off."

Tim sighed when he realized she had a point. As much as he dreaded the thought of receiving a lapdance from his ex-girlfriend, he was going to have to grin and bear it or risk exposing both of them.

"Fine."

"Glad you agree," she replied, sidling forward before straddling him.

"I _don't_ agree," he whispered even as she began undulating her torso back and forth, shoving her belly inches away from his face. "And you haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," she replied. "I'm just working the case O assigned me. I don't recall you being included in this mission. You're the one intruding here."

"It just so happens I've been pursuing leads on human trafficking and they led me here," he rebutted. "I've got more right to work this than you do."

"Oh really?" She laughed. "And how is that?"

"For one thing I'm not the one on stage taking my clothes off," he said. She continued swaying, grabbing his shoulders to steady herself as she leaned in closer, putting her breasts dangerously close to his face. He raised his hands to shove her off, but she caught them at the wrist.

"Ah-ah," she chided. "Club rules. I can touch you, but your little hands have to stay glued to the couch unless you wanna lose them."

He glared, but kept his hands where they were.

"And I don't see how me performing onstage gives me any less of a right than you to work this case. If anything I have a closer view of the business from where I am."

"You're also taking a way bigger risk. _And _you're exposing your body to strangers."

"And what's the problem with that? I'm over eighteen so it's not like I'm a minor."

His eyes narrowed. "That's not the point."

"Oh?" She started grinding her hips against his, and he cringed. "And what _is _the point?"

"I..." He tried to articulate the words but nothing came out.

"Oh my God, you don't even have the guts to say that you don't think I should be stripping because it makes _you_ uncomfortable," she said, chuckling darkly. "Well guess what? You gave me enough crap when I tried to do the vigilante thing, but there is no way you're telling me what I can or cannot do with _my _body."

"_I'm _uncomfortable? Why aren't _you _uncomfortable?"

"Because I'm not ashamed of my body, and I'm not as modest as you think I am," she answered. "There's no shame in stripping. Sure, some guys try and make it gross but there's plenty that do that outside of strip clubs anyway and if they get too handsy the bouncers will throw them out on their ass."

"Steph..."

"It's not like O is forcing me to do this," she continued, moving her hands behind her back and undoing the straps on her bra. "She presented me with a choice and I chose to do this." She tossed the bra aside, and Tim focused very hard on her eyes.

"Steph!"

"_Lola_," she hissed, leaning in so close that her naked breasts nearly touched him. "And they're just boobs, _Alvin_. You have my permission to look."

"No," he insisted, keeping his eyes shut. "I respect you too much."

"Oh you _respect _me, do you? Is that why you're trying to tell me I have no right to work this case? Why you're mortified at the thought of me getting naked in front of strangers and why you'd rather pretend you're blind than look at a rack that most boys your age would buy me a very nice dinner to see?"

He shook his head and opened his eyes, but kept them squarely locked on her face. "I didn't mean it that way Ste—Lola. I just..."

"Didn't want to see them, or didn't want to see them in this situation?" she asked. "I'm sure you'd be totally down for me doing a private little show for you in your bedroom, just you, me, and a bottle of wine." She leaned closer and the tips of her nipples brushed against his chest.

"Well too bad, it's happening here and you're gonna have to at least pretend to enjoy it because I can't keep blocking your face from the camera the entire time."

"I don't wanna see them at all because _we're_ _not dating anymore_," he insisted. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe _that's _why I'm so uncomfortable?"

"Jesus, it's not like I'm trying to fuck you," she snapped. "And I'm sorry if you think I'm overstepping the bounds of awkward ex-girlfriend friendship here. But that's not the reason you're mad at me. You're mad for the same reason you tried to stop me from doing the vigilante thing back in the day. You think that just because you disapprove of something I do that gives you the right to lecture me."

"I..."

"Did you happen to listen to that song I danced to earlier? You know what it's really about? It's about a guy who sees his middle school crush in a nudey magazine and spends the whole time whining about how this girl that he put up on a perfect little pedestal suddenly isn't just his fantasy anymore because she's showing off her body to everybody."

She stood up and continued dancing. "Well the joke's on him because he doesn't own that woman or the decisions she makes about what to do with her body. Just like you don't own me and you can't tell me what to do. So get the hell off your high horse and work with me here, Drake."

Tim sighed as he realized he had been acting like a complete jerk. "I'm sorry."

"I'll forgive you when you look at my boobs so I know you're not still ashamed of me."

Gulping, he lowered his gaze and witnessed her bare chest for the first time. His eyes widened as he realized that she had a nearly perfect set of breasts that looked _really_ good when she danced like that.

"That's better," she said, turning around and bending over to show him a closer view of her behind than he ever wanted to see.

His eyes shot wide. "Aren't you worried about the hidden cameras?""

"Oh please, O took control of them half an hour ago. As far as club security's concerned this is an empty room."

Tim blinked. "Then what was all that 'keeping up appearances' stuff?"

She stepped forward and straddled him again to keep him from standing up. "_That _was to get you to sit still long enough for me to explain myself without you getting all judgey."

"Well then why are you still doing the lapdance?"

Stephanie laughed. "Because the look on your face when you saw my breasts is making me feel all _kinds_ of good about myself." She smirked. "Feeling sexy does wonders for a girl's self-esteem, you know. That's one of the reasons why these women do it."

"Uh... yeah." Tim did not quite know how to respond to that. "Can you put your bra back on now?"

"Oh fine, you old Puritan." She retrieved the bra from the couch and slipped it back on again. "Now are we gonna do the awkward team-up thing or what?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I guess so. What's our next move?"

"You're gonna flip open that catalog and pick a girl to buy," she said. "Have her delivered to the address of your choice, then Batgirl will follow the vehicle back to wherever they're keeping the rest of them."

Tim blinked. "What?"

"I'm sure you've got a bunch of spare bank accounts to use in situations like this," she clarified, and he nodded. "And it's better than the original plan."

"What original plan?"

"This _was_ just a recon op to get a closer look at their operation, but now that I've got you here I think we can take these guys down for good. What do you say?"

Tim sighed. It wasn't like he relished the thought of human trafficking victims spending even one more night in the hands of these assholes. "Okay fine. Let's do this."


	2. Deal

As she entered the club floor again after a quick pit stop to drop off the voucher Tim had given her, Stephanie came to the conclusion that this place had no musical consistency. The guy in the bat-thong she had spied earlier was on-stage, dancing to "I'm Sexy And I Know It." Sure, her own iPod was no less eclectic, having everything from bubblegum pop to a few 90s country songs that her mother had listened to nonstop after she and Steph's father had split up, but she liked to think she at least had a little taste.

Still, she put a little sway in her step as she moved across the floor, trying to find an exit so she could vanish into the night. Even though everything she had told Tim about not being afraid of this kind of work was true, she simply did not have time to give lapdances to a bunch of strangers when she could be out there saving lives.

She had nearly reached the back door when a very tall redhead barred her passage.

"You look like you're going somewhere in a hurry, sweetie," she said with just the barest tinge of a southern accent.

"Just taking a smoke break," she replied quickly, lying out of her ass.

"Mind if I join you?" the woman asked. "Always safer to go outside in pairs."

She was more than capable of defending herself even in her current attire, but she decided to indulge the woman if only to avoid looking suspicious. "Yeah, sure."

They made their way into the back alley, and the woman pulled out a pack of cigarettes. That was when Steph realized the crippling flaw in her little lie.

"Hey, you mind if I bum one from you? I just remembered I forgot mine inside."

"No problem," she said, producing one from the pack and handing it to her. She pulled out a lighter and held it up to the end, and Steph took a quick drag to get it started.

Stephanie had briefly indulged in smoking during her obligatory teenage rebellious phase, but had soon quit after she realized it put a hamper on activities like jumping between rooftops and beating up street thugs. Still, she remembered enough to at least put on a convincing performance.

"So what's your name, sweetheart?"

"Lola Jenkins," she answered. "Yours?"

"Liana Kerzner." She exhaled slowly, and the smoke evaporated into the night. "And I meant your real name."

She blinked. "Say what?"

"Honey, I've been a dancer for almost ten years now, and I know a fake name when I hear one. You don't have to give me the last name if you don't want to."

She smiled sheepishly, reminding herself to let Oracle pick the alias next time. "Stephanie."

"Now that's more like it. I caught your routine earlier. You new at this?"

"I took a couple classes, but yeah, it's my first night," she admitted, then squinted as she looked her up and down. "Ten years? Really?"

"I'll admit, I started a little young," Liana said. "Not much older than you, actually. What are you, eighteen?"

"Nineteen. And I didn't mean it like that. You've really stuck with it for that long?"

The woman shrugged and exhaled a long puff of smoke. "What can I say? I love what I do. What's your reason?"

"Paying off bills, mostly," she answered, thinking quickly. She put the cigarette in her mouth and began to take a drag.

"Uh huh," said Liana. "So you do the undercover thing often, then?"

Stephanie was still inhaling when she asked that, so instead of an answer she launched into a coughing fit that had her doubled over and feeling like she was going to hurl. Liana kept her from falling over and patted her on the back a little until she recovered.

"What?" she said, her voice slightly raspier than she would like.

"You think this is the first time I've talked to someone pretending to be a dancer?" Liana gave her a good-natured smile. "You look a little young to be a cop, though. I'm guessing superhero?"

Her eyes went wide. "What gave you that idea?"

"Let's just say I married someone with an active nightlife," the redhead answered cryptically. She leaned back against the wall, taking another drag from her cigarette. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tattle on you. I take it you heard the rumors about this place too?"

Steph debated whether or not she should continue denying her accusations. This woman had her figured out cold, and the way she had phrased that last question suggested she was here as part of some operation to take down the human trafficking ring as well. Tim might have obstinately refused to trust her even at that point, but she was a little more willing to take chances.

"Yeah," she replied. "Is that why you're here even though your accent screams that you come from a few states down?"

"I'm in town visiting some friends," Liana clarified. "One of them pointed my wife and me in the direction of this place, and we decided to take a look."

Stephanie blinked. "Wife?"

She laughed. "Well, the government doesn't exactly recognize her as that, especially since I'm sharing her with another woman." She smiled. "But we're happy together, so it doesn't really matter."

"Well, uh, congrats," Steph responded after a moment. "Is she inside?"

"No, but a friend is helping me out." She leaned in closer. "And I saw the kid you took in the back room with you. He part of your little club too?"

It wasn't really her secret to tell, but she didn't have to tell Liana everything. "Something like that," she replied. "He might be slightly less willing to trust you than I am, though."

"Figured as much. That's why I'm talking to you. You two worked out a plan?"

"A plan for what?"

Liana chuckled. "For taking these guys down, silly. That _is_ why you're here, right?"

She nodded. "We're gonna buy one of the girls and have her delivered somewhere, then I'll follow the vehicle back."

"Sounds like that would be easier if you had a couple people backing you up," a male voice suddenly said from behind them. Steph resisted the urge to whip around in surprise, opting instead to slowly turn and face him.

He had the same blond hair she had seen earlier, and she could have sworn she had seen his face somewhere. O might have been able to confirm it if she had any way of giving her a visual. To his right there stood a woman with short brown hair, wearing a black shirt and pants. Her features also seemed familiar, though she could not quite place them at the moment.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, though she had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going.

"Relax, they're with me," said Liana. "This is my wife Scandal, and our friend Thomas."

"Wait, _Scandal_?" Oracle's voice suddenly spoke into her ear. "Scandal _Savage_? And let me guess, that's Catman standing next to her."

Steph's eyes went wide. "Wait a minute, weren't you two part of the Secret Six?" They nodded, and she turned to Liana. "So when you said you married someone with an active nightlife…"

"Well," Liana said, smiling, "I never said she was a super_hero_."

* * *

Tim exited the club, unable to stand the heat, bad music and people surrounding him any longer than he had to. He zeroed in on his car, hopping in and heading to the rendezvous point that he and Steph had agreed upon.

He still had doubts about this plan, and about Steph's words. She meant well, and he would even concede that she knew what she was getting herself into, but that didn't change the fact that he worried about her and didn't want to see her get hurt, or worse.

Not again.

Tim sighed. He needed someone to talk to about this. Bruce was busy globe-trotting, looking for more people to recruit into Batman Incorporated. Dick was on an important assignment, Cass was all the way in Hong Kong, and Barbara was the one who had assigned this mission to Steph in the first place. And no way was he talking to Damian.

Flipping on the comm built into his dashboard, Tim dialed the only person available who could offer him some helpful advice.

"Hello, young Master Timothy. I assume your evening is going well?"

"Hey, Alfred," he replied. "Sort of. Do you have a minute?"

"Well I do have an entire mansion to dust, but I can certainly spare some time for you. What's on your mind?"

He decided to come right out and say it. "Stephanie's gone undercover as a stripper."

"Oh yes, Miss Gordon informed me of that particular mission earlier this evening," the butler responded. "I was unaware that you had been assigned to the case as well."

"I wasn't. I was working a case of my own and the leads pointed me to that club. I ran into her by accident."

"I see."

"You're okay with this?" Tim asked. "I'm surprised, Alfred."

"Young man, I am the personal valet of a man who spends his nights apprehending criminals while dressed as a bat," came the reply. "I run a team of super-powered teenagers, and I worked for MI6 in the 1970s. Do you really think me so old-fashioned?"

He frowned, then, rather sheepishly, answered: "I guess not."

"If you were insinuating that Miss Gordon had to talk me into accepting this, the answer is no. Stephanie has proven herself adept at this sort of undercover work, and I have every confidence in her ability to handle herself."

"Even if she's exposing her body to strangers?"

"Timothy, it took me a long time to learn that what a woman chooses to do with her body is not for men to dictate," Alfred told him. "So I will forgive that remark on the grounds that you are still too young to have realized that yourself. At any rate, as long as Stephanie is doing this of her own volition and was not pressured, I don't see how it's any of our business."

"Yeah, she pretty much told me the same thing," he admitted. "But I worry about her, you know? I can't lose her again."

"You cannot 'lose' that which you do not possess," the butler patiently explained. "And Stephanie is not a possession. What happened to her back then is something I regret every day, but your concern for her does not give you the right to control her."

"Alfred, I get it," he said. "Save the lecture."

"I've actually been meaning to have this conversation with you for some time," Alfred revealed. "You simply provided the opening."

"Great," he muttered, grumbling. "Anyway, I actually could use your help. Can the dusting wait?"

Alfred chuckled. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

* * *

"You had me figured out from the start, didn't you?" Stephanie asked, looking at Thomas.

"You know many other blondes in Gotham? I knew you were Batgirl from the moment you hit the stage."

She sighed. At least she hadn't told them her last name. "And why exactly are you here?"

"Exactly what I told you," said Liana. "We've been contracted to bring this operation down."

"And since we got our asses handed to us the last time we were in Gotham, we figured we should at least ask before poking in your fridge," said Scandal. "Much as Thomas here would rather tell you to go screw yourselves."

"Hey, I only have issues with the sanctimonious types," he replied. "Far as I can tell you seem fairly on the level."

"Sanctimonious?" Oracle said into her headset. "Why that little…"

"You know I'm the only one who can hear you, right O?"

Thomas sighed. "Tell her to patch into the frequency on our headsets. If that's who I think it is on the other end of the line, we're long overdue for a chat."

"Yes we are, Thomas," said Babs, who was now transmitting into everybody's ears. "You broke Huntress' heart, you know."

"She's fine," he retorted. "Didn't stop her from trying to save my ass the last time I saw her."

"Yeah, that worked out great for all of you. Tell me one reason I shouldn't have you all arrested right now."

"Because the first thing we're gonna tell the cops is your girl's secret identity," he answered. "Tell me, has she moved away from home yet or did Batman adopt her too?"

"Not telling you anything more than you already know, Blake. What exactly is it you want from us?"

"Well, as it happens, you're pretty much the best operational support in the world," he said, smiling as he paced up and down the alley. "You can call the shots like the big control freak you are, and we'll help out with your girl's mission here, on the condition that you let us go free so we can collect the contract."

His features turned serious. "And if you try and screw us over, then Helena's name is getting leaked too. And not just to the cops."

Barbara was dead silent.

"Well, Oracle? Do we have a deal?"

Stephanie could practically hear her frown on the other end. "Deal," she finally said.

"Excellent." It was Scandal who replied, in a clipped, business-like tone. Steph figured she was the de facto leader of the merry little band of mercs. "Your girl's got a fairly solid plan. Actually, it was our plan too."

"Well, at least we're on the same page," commented Steph.

"That being said, you would have to account for the possibility that the car isn't going to drive straight back to where they're keeping the women."

"Already did, and as long as you can get me a make, model and license plate number, I can find out who owns that vehicle and what they had for breakfast last Tuesday."

"Still don't see why you didn't send your Birds to do this," Thomas mentioned idly. "I mean, Black Canary already..."

"Dresses like a stripper, I know," Oracle interrupted. "The problem with that is she doesn't exactly have a secret identity. Stephanie had a smaller chance of getting recognized."

"And I'm the only one who took a pole-dancing class," she chimed in.

"Right, that. Now, finding out the base of operations is only the first part. We need a plan for what to do after that."

"What's there to find out?" asked Steph. "We get in, bust out the girls, call the cops and everybody goes home happy."

"The difficulty of which depends on where exactly they're being held," Oracle explained tightly. "And I want to make sure these two mercs stay in line and don't screw everything up."

"We didn't bring Deadshot or Ragdoll, so you don't need to worry about the loose cannon factor," said Scandal. "We're professionals."

"I'll believe it when I see it. In the meantime, Stephanie needs to get out of there. At this point she's been gone from the floor too long to maintain her cover anymore."

"Agreed," said Steph.

"Second, Stephanie will stake out the drop-off zone for the first girl while you two check out wherever you're having your girl delivered. That way we have twice the chance of nailing them. Stay in radio contact the whole time."

"Roger," replied Scandal.

"After that… well, depending on where they're being held, we'll come up with a battle plan on the fly. And I'm serious about staying in line. No killing from either of you."

"We'll try and remember that, _Mom_," Thomas snapped. "We expect you to hold up your end of the deal. We help you out, you let us go, everybody wins."

"Just as long as you maintain your part of the bargain," she replied. "Everybody got it?"

"Yeah," they chorused.

"One more thing," said Steph, and they all turned to look at her. "We're not telling my partner in there about any of this."

They glanced at each other, then back at her, and nodded. "Agreed."


End file.
